


Chocolate

by HighFunctioningSarah



Series: Jinx Anthology [6]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Asexual Jughead Jones, Diners, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, High School, Hurt Jughead Jones, Milkshakes, Multi, Riverdale High School, Writer Jughead Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24019414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighFunctioningSarah/pseuds/HighFunctioningSarah
Summary: After a long day at school and spending the afternoon at Pops' Diner with your best friend Cheryl Blossom, you find yourself stranded there with a flat phone battery and no lift home.
Relationships: Cheryl Blossom & Reader, Jughead Jones/Reader
Series: Jinx Anthology [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713607
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Chocolate

The familiar metallic ring of the school bell sounded throughout your classroom, and you eagerly packed your things away. Carelessly tossing your Science textbook on top of the messy pile inside your bag, you overheard the usual gossip of the girls behind you. Wanting to leave as soon as you could, you sped out of the classroom with your headphones blasting music, drowning out the sounds of reality.

The passionate singing and loud guitar filled your ears, disconnecting you from the messy hell that was Riverdale High. You steamrolled past your friend, the red-haired queen bee Cheryl Blossom herself, presumably chatting away to her minions outside her locker. You smirked, the music at just the right volume to overpower any background noise the school could throw at you.

The familiar dented metal of your locker revealed itself towards the end of the corridor, and you walked even faster towards it. You dumped your textbooks and spare jumper into the top shelf, replacing them with your charcoal pencils and art book. The coarse feel of the paper welcomed you, the temptation of a blank sheet filling you with excitement.

Shutting the locker, you walked out of the hallway, headed outside to sit underneath your usual spot. The droopy tree was a great place to sit at, and its lowest branch proved to be a good spot to avoid being interrupted when you were caught up in drawing. You passed several picnic tables on the way there, one which included the talented musician in your home room, Josie.

She said something to a guy with bright orange hair, who laughed and nudged another boy with a beanie. He rolled his eyes in amusement. The two girls on the other side of the table laughed too, beckoning the sheriff's son, Kevin to the table. They all seemed happy at their table, but it seemed like an odd mix of people. The only one you knew aside from Josie was the Sheriff's son himself, as you two had instantly bonded a few weeks ago in law studies over the dramatics of mock-trials.

You almost smacked into your tree, too busy observing the group. One of the boys from the table saw you, smiling a little and turning back to his red-haired friend. Reaching to climb the old tree, you slid your things securely into a nook within the trunk, pulling yourself up to the lowest branch. You grabbed your things, placing the sketch book on the branch above you and sitting down. You stretched your legs in front of you before pulling them upwards to act as a table, sighing and relaxing.

You grabbed the sketch book and tenderly picked up a charcoal pencil, the wood feeling familiar in your cold hands. Searching the depths of your mind for inspiration, you rested the pencil against your lips. Growing impatient with your lack of creativity, you grabbed a chocolate bar from your pocket, looking forward to your favourite snack. Your demeanour changed quickly when you saw the peeved expression covering Cheryl's face as she stormed towards you.

"(Y/n/n). As much as I appreciate you being my best friend, I don't appreciate being blown off for a tree during lunch and, inevitably, next period." She said, perfectly painted lips pursed.

You crinkled your brows, unsure of how to answer without making things worse.

"You know I like drawing up here." You tried to reason.

"Yes, your strange introverted nature will always be foreign to me, head cheerleader and socialite." She said, a gleam in her eye.

You laughed. "Okay. I'm sorry for ditching class without meeting up with you, I was just eager to sit down and draw for a bit."

"It's fine. Besides, it's the view of Andrews that you really enjoy." Cheryl said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, slipping off the tree, books still in hand.

"Uh, no. He looks just like your brother." You said, laughing. Cheryl screwed up her face a little, chuckling alongside you. She spun on her heel, and you both made your way to the main hall, unaware of how strange the scene must have been to the table next to the tree.

The two of you chatted away, completely abandoning the argument that had ensued.

"Pop's after school?" You asked.

"Of course."

***

After a thrilling last period in maths that explored the qualities of a surd, you were finally able to wash away the day's woes. The familiar neon sign of your favourite diner emerged in the distance, the light bending and reflecting on the windscreen of Cheryl's car. It illuminated her face in the shadowed afternoon, highlighting her eyes and her trademark red lips. Your hair was tousled from the drive, as each window in the expensive red car was open. You turned the dial of the car radio, silencing the soothing tunes that were previously playing.

You both emerged from the car, linking arms and waltzing into the diner. The familiar smell made you feel comfortable, as well as hungry.

"(Y/n), what do you want to order?" Cheryl asked.

You smiled. "You know me, I'm a sucker for chocolate."

Cheryl chuckled and turned to the order board, scanning the long list of items. She hummed in thought, squinting a little.

"Should I get a cherry ripe slice or fries and a caramel milkshake?"

You furrowed your brows. "Oh, that's a tough decision." You paused. "Why not both? You can take the cherry ripe home and keep it for tomorrow."

She smiled playfully. "This is why you're the dependable one. Making all the right decisions."

You both ordered your food, settling in a plush booth towards the back of the diner. Once again absorbed in conversation, you failed to notice the boy with the grey beanie from earlier in the next booth over. Your food arrived, and the familiar taste of chocolate made you feel at home. It wasn't long before Cheryl's phone rang, and she picked up her phone in disappointment.

"It’s mother. I have to leave, so I'll see you tomorrow at school." She said, putting the paper bag in her handbag.

"Yeah, sure, later." You said, also disappointed. Sending a short wave goodbye, you turned to your almost-full chocolate milkshake. You twirled the straw in the sugary substance absentmindedly, feeling lonely. You sipped the drink slowly, focusing on its delicious flavour and not much else going on. As much as you liked having time alone, when you came to Pop's with Cheryl it was like a sacred time to be social, and you enjoyed it. After some time, Pops came to your booth and broke you from your stupor, asking if you wanted to order anything else.

Feeling tempted, you asked for one his Riverdale-famous chocolate bars.

You had a bit of a history with chocolate.

Your mother said your love affair with chocolate began when you barely had teeth coming through. Your father, home alone and dealing with a crying baby, had given you a chocolate to eat. As a baby, it probably wasn't the best thing he gave you, but he wasn't exactly the best parent. By the time you were in preschool, your parents were divorced, and any time you saw your father, a chocolate accompanied him. As a naïve little girl, you always saw him as your loving father, rather than an alcoholic, abusive man.

You still remember the lady who would always be in the room when you visited your dad. Her name was Isabelle, and she was the nicest welfare worker you would ever come to know. She always smelt like lavender, and you used to beg her to plait her curly, dark hair. It was almost like she was family.

You don't remember why she left her job, or why she stopped coming to visits.

By the pre-teen age of twelve, your father was in prison on an account of murder. It was then that you moved to Riverdale. With your love of chocolate so deep-rooted within you, you never gave it up for the sake of your father's misdoings, and you never visited him again.

You reached the end of your train of thought, sucked back into the present. Your eyes wandered around the room, landing on a grey beanie resting atop a mop of messy black hair in the booth ahead of you. Recognising him as the boy from Josie's lunch table, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He was the one that saw you almost walk into the tree. Typing away at his laptop, the teen picked at some chips nonchalantly.

Feeling the sudden urge to leave the shoppe and return home, you reached for your phone. You attempted to call your mother, only to discover that it had run out of battery and you didn't have a charger. A little exasperated, you approached the counter of the store where Pops was wiping everything down.

"Hey Pops." You greeted.

"Oh, hi (y/n). How's it going?" The man asked warmly, his brown eyes always welcoming. "Can I get you anything?"

"Actually, my phone is dead." You explained. "Mind if I use the landline?"

Pops shook his head. He put down the spray bottle and cloth for a moment. "Sorry, but the line's been cut by some hoodlums again, I'm gettin' it fixed Monday."

You furrowed your brows, smacking the desk loudly with your hands. "Damn. Thanks anyway Pops."

The man nodded and then wiped down the area that you had just touched with a teasing shake of his head. You mouthed a quick apology, making your way towards the exit. It was going to be a long walk home.

"Actually, (y/n), if you're looking for a charger, Jughead is here quite often with his laptop. I'm sure he'll have somethin' for your phone."

You froze, turning back to the shoppe owner with a false smile. "Sure, I'll ask. Thanks Pops."

The man didn't respond, instead walking into the kitchen. You glanced in Jughead's direction, checking to see whether or not he had heard the exchange. He seemed completely engrossed in his computer, giving no indication that he had been listening in. The prospect of asking him for a charger terrified you, the incident with the tree making your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Glancing again at the exit, you thought about whether it would be worth walking home.

The rain that had begun to fall from the sky steeled your resolve, and you strode towards the beanie-wearing boy.

"Hey, um, Jughead," you began meekly. The boy looked towards you with confused eyes. "I, um, I was just wondering if I... uh..."

"Could borrow my phone charger?" He finished.

You nodded and looked to the ground; arms folded in front of you.

"Sure. Although I tend to loan things to people that actually look me in the eyes." He quipped.

Your eyes widened and you waved your arms in front of you. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to offend you. I was just worried about talking to you because I thought that you saw me- oh, never mind."

"Saw you walk into a tree during lunch break?" The boy teased, a hint of a smirk on his features.

"Yeah... That's me." You breathed out. "Tree-loving weirdo who hangs out with the biggest bitch in school." A pause filled the air and you looked to the ground, shaking your head. "I'm sorry. This was a mistake. I'll just see if I can find an umbrella at the general store a few streets down..." You said again, trailing off. Jughead furrowed his brows, concern on his features. You seemed genuinely hurt.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm just... teasing. Most people don't even come over here to talk to me, the beanie-wearing punk rock weirdo who hangs out with no one." He said, laughing dryly. You smiled weakly; arms folded in front of you once again. "How about..." he began, looking around the booth hesitantly. "How about you sit down? If you buy me a milkshake, I'll take a look at your phone and see if I have the right charger."

You nodded, anxiety calming. Making your way to the counter, you ordered one strawberry and one chocolate milkshake. They were ready in less than a minute, so you walked back to the booth with a shake in each hand, focused entirely on not spilling the creamy goodness. As you sat, Jughead reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a charger.

"Thanks." You both said in unison. You chuckled, sliding over the milkshake and plugging the charger into your phone. It fit, so you connected it into a power outlet in the wall.

"Strawberry huh? How'd you know?" Jughead asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Lucky guess."

Jughead rolled his eyes. He scrolled through something on his computer, quickly diverting his attention to your milkshake.

"Chocolate. Classic." He said. "Pops get you hooked?"

"No... No absentee, jailed father feeds child chocolate for the first decade or so of her life." You say in a lighthearted, newspaper article fashion. "He should've known that stuff is more addictive than cocaine for a child. Made me dependent on it."

Jughead nodded. He wore that sarcastic smirk once more, the only feature that seemed to challenge his brooding expression. "Absentee, jailed fathers have a tendency to screw up their kids."

"You say it like you have experience."

Jughead frowned, looking to his computer again. He seemed as if he wanted to sink into the chair beneath him and out of existence. A silence fell between the two of you, awkward and palpable.

"That I do." He said, looking to you. His eyes seemed pained as he spoke. "My dad got me hooked on strawberry. Brought me to Pops' and I couldn't imagine having anything else. My dad's never done time though, so I guess I've got a leg up."

You looked to the table with guilt, sipping on your chocolate milkshake. An idea formed in your mind. You raised your milkshake into the air.

"To absentee, questionably law-abiding fathers with a tendency to pass on food addictions to their messed-up, totally weird children." You said, your tone playful. Jughead raised a brow but brought his glass to yours anyway.

"To absentee, questionably law-abiding fathers with a tendency to pass on food addictions to their messed-up, totally weird children." He laughed out. You both took a sip from your drinks, smiles on your faces.

"If you don't mind me asking," Jughead began, closing his laptop and putting it in his bag. "why exactly do you hang out with the flame-haired River Vixen herself?"

You smirked, taking another gulp of the chocolate goodness. "We've just been friends for as long as I can remember." You shrugged. "We've always been there for each other, despite our differences."

"I can't imagine many people being friends with her."

"I can't imagine anyone demanding a milkshake in return for a borrowed phone charger. You're practically robbing me!" You laughed. Jughead nodded with a smirk.

"You still bought me one." He said, a laugh in his throat.

You nodded. "My pocket's gonna hate me for it later."

You both laughed. The remainder of the night passed in a flash, conversation keeping you alert well past the early hours of the morning. When your phone had finally charged, the rain outside had stopped, daylight breaking across the horizon in a blur of orange, purple and the deepest red. As you took your leave to begin a long walk to your house just beyond the drive-in, the time now far too early to call your mother, Jughead stood to walk with you. He had a shift that morning, so you decided to send your mother a text message and go with him.

The pair of you stood, leaving the booth where you had shared laughter, smiles and many, many, milkshakes.


End file.
